


I Went to College and All I Got Was This Crappy Roommate

by LittleTrashcan



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron Legendary Defender, vld - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:30:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleTrashcan/pseuds/LittleTrashcan
Summary: Will you be staying in the dorms after this semester? Yes. Do you want a roommate?Originally, Keith had marked no. He didn’t want to reestablish rules and schedules and get comfortable around another person. Pidge had been fine, since they’d known each other since high school. But now…He pulled the folded yellow form out of his pocket and looked at it again. There, in bold black ink, was a check in the wrong box. Yes, I do want a roommate.~~When roommates get switched around, Keith is landed with Lance as his roommate.





	1. Where the Buffalo Roam

Keith stared blankly at the professor as he moved energetically in front of the class. Ordinarily, he would make an attempt on taking notes. He wouldn’t be numbly staring at the professor, mind so far from the 8:00 class he was in that he may as well be in space.

Shiro was moving in with his longtime girlfriend, Allura. That was fine. What was less fine was that _Pidge_ , Keith’s own roommate, had told him they wanted to be roommates with Hunk, who would be alone after Shiro left.

It wasn’t that he was going to stop Pidge (nobody could really stop Pidge), but it was just so… sudden. Keith would roll with it, but he hadn’t expected it.

What _really_ wasn’t fine was submitting the housing paperwork. Will you be staying in the dorms after this semester? Yes. Do you want a roommate?

Originally, Keith had marked no. He didn’t want to reestablish rules and schedules and get comfortable around another person. Pidge had been fine, since they’d known each other since high school. But now…

He pulled the folded yellow form out of his pocket and looked at it again. There, in bold black ink, was a check in the wrong box. _Yes, I do want a roommate._

It would be one thing if the yellow form could be changed out with another form and submitted. But that wasn’t the case. The yellow form in his hands was the copy you kept. It was the copy they gave you after you already submitted the request.

_Damnit Pidge,_ Keith crumpled the form again. His roommate was a fantastic hacker and forger. Although they meant well, Keith was going to kill them when he was done with class.

The professor looped again around the front of the class, gesturing over the students’ heads, reminding them that “It’s a 74 to 3 chance that at least 10 of you will receive an injury during the winter break!”

***

Pidge folded their arms. “I don’t get why you’re so mad.”

“Because I didn’t _want_ another roommate, Pidge!” Keith covered his face with his hands, letting his head drop against his mattress.

_“Obviously,_ but you would do better with one. Who else is gonna get your butt up for class?”

“I can set alarms.”

“We both know how well that goes.” Pidge snorted. It was true, Keith could sleep through a bomb drop. It was the reason that he was late to register for classes.

“It still wasn’t your choice to make, Pidge!”

“Fine. I’m sorry, okay?”

Room 207 fell silent. Keith sighed and stared at the ceiling, listening to Pidge resume the tapping on their keyboard. He pulled out the paper once again, then balled it up and threw it away.

“Who knows, you may get someone you know.”

“Maybe.”

Their phones vibrated.

**we’re all magicarp on the inside**

**Today 12:03 AM**

**Douchebag Lance**

last day anyone up for a meal???

**Pigeon**

ya but we all know youre not payin

**Douchebag Lance**

im a starving college kid! i dont have the money

**Pigeon**

yet you have enough money to buy fuckin 80 dollar shoes

**Space Dad**

Pidge.

**Pigeon**

**heckin

**Snow Princess**

they have a point though.

**Hunk the Hunk**

if we’re going I know a place

**Pigeon**

its that burger place isnt it

**Douchebag Lance**

the burger place

**Snow Princess**

Is it that Larry’s by the sushi place?

**Hunk the Hunk**

yeah, it’s… it’s the Larry’s…

**Space Dad**

Sure, Hunk. Let’s go there.

 

**Keith**

hunk haven’t you eaten there at least twenty times?

**Hunk the Hunk**

probably more like fifty… BUT IT’S SO GOOD

 

**Douchebag Lance**

do u have a better suggestion, red power ranger

 

**Keith**

we’ve never been to the sushi place

Pidge looked up. “You like sushi?”

“Never been,” he shrugged. “Might as well check it out.”

 

**Keith**

and i do not consent to that nickname

 

**Douchebag Lance**

sorry, did u like muLLET BETTER??????

 

**Space Dad**

Please don’t use the group chat to fight.

 

**Space Dad**

Keith, sushi sounds fine. Is everyone okay with that?

***

“You’re headed home for winter break?” Shiro looked at Keith.

“You have a home?” Lance interrupted, grinning smugly across the table at him.

“Yeah. Ma asked me to come home,” Keith replied to Shiro, ignoring Lance. After a year of knowing him, Keith decided that the thing that would irk Lance the most would be to utterly ignore him. “She says Boof misses me, but I think she’s the one really missing me.”

“Sounds like it,” Shiro shrugged and put a piece of sushi in his mouth.

“Do you already have tickets to fly?” Pidge’s head whipped around so fast they might’ve gotten whiplash.

“Yes, Pidge. I’m not letting you try and hack the airline’s systems. Shiro would kill me.”

“And that is _highly_ illegal!” Shiro put in.

“Although if anyone could do it, it’d be our Pidge.” Allura shrugged.

A series of groans and sighs erupted among various “Don’t encourage them…”

“So wait,” Lance swallowed another hunk of sashimi. “Keith is going home to his, what, ranch?”

“I think it’s actually a farm.” Hunk shrugged. “Farms are the ones that grow crops, right? And ranches have animals?”

“Really? I thought those were interchangeable.” Allura tilted her head.

“Okay, farm. Keith is going back to being a cowboy on his farm in, where again? Middle of Nowhere, Texas?”

 “No, no, I think its in-” Pidge started.

“Fuck y’all! I live near White Deer, and it isn’t _that_ obscure!”

“Hmm…” Lance narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, sounds a lot like the middle of nowhere to me.”

“You know, Lance, being a dick won’t make yours any bigger.”

“Well at… I… _Tell that to your mom!”_

Everyone stared at Lance.

“That… that is the worst comeback yet.” Keith raised an eyebrow. “It _barely_ makes sense.”

“Actually, I don’t think it makes sense at all…” Pidge scratched their head.

Shiro glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. Keith, when do you leave?”

“Uh, tomorrow at 6. PM.”

“I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“Thanks, Shiro.” Keith smiled, handing Shiro the $20 he owed for the meal and heading out the doors, waving goodbye to his friends.

As soon as he was outside, Keith figured he wasn’t going back to his dorm just yet. The night was too alive, too brisk, too perfect to waste.

He got on his motorcycle and roared out onto the road, headed for the ocean. He drove alongside the crashing waves and silent, empty beaches until the lights of the town were behind him and the stars blanketed the cold sky like snowflakes. He liked seeing the stars, all of them, away from the light pollution of the college town. It reminded him of home.

Keith pulled into one of the deserted parking lots and walked down the sand to the surf. He decided he’d miss this, the crashing waves so close to the California college he’d come to. He’d definitely miss his friends, but White Deer was so far from any beaches that it would be a road trip in and of itself just to visit one. Friends he could call, but not the ocean.

He took off his socks and shoes, rolled up his pants and stepped into the freezing water.

_Might as well enjoy it while I’m here._


	2. Airport Coffee: Awful. Christmas: Not Awful.

Keith was on his third cup of airport coffee. He stared at it, contemplating throwing it into the nearest trashcan (where it clearly belonged), but took another big swig of it anyway, shuddering as he swallowed.

He’d done the same with the other two cups, despite how disgusting they were. He would regret it when he was on the plane, trying to pee through turbulence, but for now he downed the brown liquid and tossed the cardboard cup at the trashcan.

“Now boarding: Flight 207 to Silverton Airport, group C.”

Keith adjusted his big bag and walked towards the group C line, passport and boarding pass in hand. A frowning flight attendant nodded at him and he walked down the path towards the plane.

Inside the plane it was dark, the windows all half closed against the afternoon sun. It wasn’t hot, not exactly, but it was a warmer winter day. Keith took his seat and passively scrolled through the latest chatter in the group text before the plane took off and demanded phones to be placed in airplane mode.

**we’re all magicarp on the inside**

**Today 8:01 AM**

**Pigeon**

has anyone seen my laptop?

**Pigeon**

lance did you take my laptop i swear if you did i’m gonna rip your spine out

**Hunk the Hunk**

Isn’t it on your bed?

**Pigeon**

if it were on my bed i wouldn’t have a s k e d.

**Space Dad**

Where did you see it last?

**Snow Princess**

Perhaps you left it in your old dorm?

**Douchebag Lance**

maybe keiht took it 2 white rock

**Keith**

white DEER moron

**Keith**

i don’t have it pidge, sorry

**Space** **Dad**

How’s your flight, Keith?

**Keith**

slept through most of the first one, probably gonna sleep through this one too

**Pigeon**

cool but whERES MY LAPTOP LANCE

**Douchebag** **Lance**

dunno. maybe ask hunk

**Hunk** **the** **Hunk**

if you put that laptop in my room to try I will never bake for you again.

**Douchebag** **Lance**

ITS IN YOUR LAUNDRY BASKET PIDGE

Keith chuckled as he turned his phone off and buckled his seatbelt, the last passengers filing in and ramming baggage into the overheads. He tuned out the safety instructions, shrugging off his mother’s voice in his head (“But what if you experience trouble? What if you need to know those?”), he popped in his earbuds and nodded off to the All American Rejects and Bowling for Soup.

He woke up as the airplane came screaming down from the sky, coming in for a loud, rattling landing on the Silverton landing strip.

“These planes are gonna shake apart someday,” he sighed quietly, grabbing his one bag and heading out of the airplane and through the airport.

***

_“Keith!”_ The shriek ripped across the quiet yard and stopped him in the middle of exiting the Uber. He turned, a half smile on his face as a chubby woman in her early forties came barreling across the yard, hot on the heels of a huge dog.

Suddenly, he was swept up in fur and strong arms and the scent of pumpkin pie and a slobbery dog tongue.

“Oh, it’s been so long- Look how much you’ve grown! Your hair is so long, Keith you have to let me cut that, sweetie- Oh! I’ve missed you!”

“Thanks, Ma- down, Boof.” Keith managed to say through the death grip she had on him. “Hold on, I gotta-”

“Ooh, you’re right!” May dropped her son and let him grab his bag.

As they walked back towards the house, she chattered away at Keith, asking questions but leaving no time for answers. For his part, Keith smiled and scratched the fluffy dog behind his ears.

“It’s good to be home, Ma,” Keith smiled. “I missed y’all.”

“Well,” she huffed, pretending not to be overjoyed that he’d come home for the winter break. “You wouldn’t know it by the way you ignore us.”

“I call almost every month!”

“Once a month may be good enough for your father, but I am your mother and _I_ would like to talk to my son more often!”

Keith laughed and wrapped his arm around May’s shoulders. “I love you too. Where’s dad?”

“Oh, you know.” She sighed, “Working out in the barn, still trying to fix that truck of yours.”

Keith smiled. Working on that crappy old truck had been him and his father’s favorite pastime for years. They’d pulled it from the dump when Keith was 15, and declared that they’d fix it up and have it running before he was 16.

Unfortunately, while the older man had an extensive knowledge of cars, the younger boy did not. Keith insisted that he had to work on the car too, and so progress had been incredibly slow while he learned from his father.

Opening the door, Keith caught sight of a pair of legs sticking out from beneath the dusty old Ford. A thud, followed immediately by a string of curses, snapped out from beneath the car.

“Ma’s gonna kill you if she hears that,” Keith smiled again, hopping up to sit in the bed of the truck. “You’re working without me?”

Henry rolled out from beneath the car, a smile and grease on his face. “Guess I got a little impatient for you to get here. How’ve you been?”

He stretched and ruffled Keith’s long hair.

“Good. You two should come out sometime, I think mom would love it.”

“Maybe,” Henry grinned. “For now, help me with this damn thing, would you?”

“Sure, dad,” Keith rolled his eyes, but enthusiastically crawled beneath the car anyways.

***

Boof stuck his nose in Keith’s face and sneezed.

“Good morning to you, too.” Keith groaned, mopping his face off with a corner of the blanket. Once Keith returned, Boof had immediately resumed his habit of sleeping on Keith’s bed and waking him up in various (sometimes unpleasant) ways.

Keith grabbed his phone and checked the messages.

**we’re all magicarp on the inside**

**December 24, 11:55 PM**

**Pigeon**

HEY FUCKERS MERRY CHRISTMAS

**Space Dad**

P I D G E

**Hunk the Hunk**

technically it’s not christmas yet…

**Snow Princess**

Hunk’s right, Pidge. You have 5 minutes before it’s technically Christmas.

**Douchebag Lance**

NEVER FEAR PIDGE

**Douchebag Lance**

ILL CELEBRATE A FIVE MINUTES EARLY CHRISTMAS WITH U

**Snow Princess**

You could start a countdown. There’s one minute left.

**Space Dad**

Allura, please don’t encourage them…

**Douchebag Lance**

59!

**Space Dad**

Goddamnit…

**Douchebag Lance**

58!

**Pigeon**

h o l y  s h i t  d a d  c u s s e d

**Douchebag Lance**

57!

**Hunk the Hunk**

look what you’ve driven him to…

 

Keith thumbed past the minute countdown, smirking at the crap Shiro was getting.

 

**we’re all magicarp on the inside**

**December 25 12:00 AM**

**Pigeon**

MERRY CHRISTMAS LOSERS

**Douchebag** **Lance**

MERRY CHRISTMAS

**Hunk** **the** **Hunk**

merry christmas, guys

**Snow** **Princess**

Merry Christmas to all of you, and your families as well.

**Space** **Dad**

Merry Christmas

**Space** **Dad**

Now go to bed, nerds.

**Douchebag** **Lance**

HOlY crOW

**Douchebag** **Lance**

guys I think we brole shiro

**Douchebag** **Lance**

he said bad words aND insulted us???

**Douchebag** **Lance**

guys?

**December 25 9:35 AM**

**Keith**

merry christmas y’all

**Pigeon**

yeehaw

**Keith**

screw you. go open your presents, pigeon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep saying y'all now... Not that I mind, honestly.  
> Again, correct me on any errors... And if anyone has Keith's parents actual names (or at least his dad's, I feel like it was in the show at some point), could you please tell me? I did some research but I can't find anything...  
> Thanks for reading!!


	3. Dorm Life, Resumed

Keith plopped down in the chair at his desk. In the tiny room, there was only room for two bunk beds (neither him nor Pidge could guess why they were bunk beds, as you were only allowed one roommate), two desks, and a mini-fridge.

The mini-fridge’s customary magnets had been removed, and Keith stared at it longingly. It felt strange to have Pidge’s magnets gone, the door of the fridge awkwardly devoid of any pictures or personality.

_Maybe I’ll buy some magnets._

The door opened and he spun his swivel chair to greet (or at least make eye contact with) his new roommate.

A large surfboard blocked his view of the new person temporarily, but then swung around to reveal a lanky boy with earbuds in, bobbing his head to some _undeniably_ terrible music.

“No.” The word dropped out of his mouth like a stone. “Fuck no.”

Lance McClain turned with a smile on his face, pulling out an earbud. The boys made eye contact, Keith scowling darkly at Lance while he stood there frozen, an awkward smile on his face.

Keith regretted deleting the email with his housing arrangement on it. He regretted leaving the housing paperwork out where Pidge could see it and change it.

They stared at each other in silence, neither knowing how to truly react.

Keith regretted going to college in California.

“What the shit.” Lance’s words floated weakly out of his mouth.

“What the _fuck.”_ Keith spat. “Why are you in here?”

“This is room 207, smartass,” Lance snapped back. “This is my room. What are _you_ doing here?”

“This is _my_ room, genius. I live here.”

_No fucking way._ Keith glared harder at Lance, as if it would make him disappear. Some stranger, he could live with. Someone who ate his food or smelled like vinegar or was some ridiculous kid who had 18 classes and 3 jobs.

Keith Kogane couldn’t live with Lance McClain.

They could barely sit at the same table without ripping each other to shreds, let alone share a room day in, day out.

“No.”

“The fuck do you think _I’m_ thinking, mullet?” Lance hefted the surfboard to the top bunk and turned around, hands on his hips and an irritated glare. “Not exactly jumping for joy here.”

_“Pendejo!”_ A girl came in behind Lance, equally tall and possibly just as irritated at him. “Finish unpacking, you can make friends later.”

As she left Keith’s eyes went from her to Lance, then he shook his head and got up. “I’m going. Have fun here.”

Outside the room, he bumped squarely into the girl.

“Sorry, didn’t see you.” He tried to squeeze by but she caught his arm.

“Are you his roommate?”

“Yeah. Are you his sister?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes assessed him, and then she let him go. “Well, I’ll probably be seeing you sometime, then.”

“Sure,” Keith muttered as he walked the rest of the way down the hall, mind filled with how he would survive college without becoming a murderer.

 

**Pigeon**

**Today 3:00 PM**

**Keith**

pidge did you do this

**Pigeon**

do what

**Keith**

LANCE IS MY ROOMMATE???????

**Pigeon**

lmfao

**Pigeon**

i didn’t but that’s fuckin gold

**Keith**

fuck

 

Keith rammed his phone into his pocket and stomped down the stairs, aiming for the parking lot and his motorcycle. Not entirely sure where he was going, just that he was going.

_Lance_ was his roommate. Lance McClain. _The_ Lance McClain. The thorn in his side since they’d met at the beginning of the year. How was he supposed to live with him? How was he supposed to survive living with Lance, the health nut and notorious diva?

_I’m not,_ Keith heaved a sigh as he started up the bike. _This is how I die._

Keith hit the gas and tore out of the little parking lot, aiming for nowhere in particular.

***

By the time Keith got back to the dorm, Lance was gone. The only things that showed he’d even been there was a photo stuck to the fridge with an ironically tourist-y magnet, a starry pillowcase on the bed (a pillowcase that Keith would _never,_ under any circumstances, admit to wanting), and some weird healthy-looking food in the fridge.

The other closet was probably full of Lance’s clothes, but Keith figured that would be really weird and creepy to look through. Instead, he turned his attention to his classes. This time, he’d not only had three alarms to wake him, but also Boof and his mother, so he’d gotten the afternoon classes he hoped and prayed for.

Opening his laptop, he began looking up his professors. While he’d gotten a few he liked (for example, Professor Coran for history, a family friend of Allura’s), there were some he didn’t know about. Specifically Professor Haggar, his chemistry professor.

“Crap,” He sighed, scrolling through mostly negative reviews. He wasn’t good at chemistry, and evidently Haggar was a harsh teacher.

_She gave my class a lot of homework and very little leeway in anything. Overall, she tended more towards the angry side._

“Crap, crap, _crap,”_ Keith ran his hands through his dark hair. Grumpy teachers were never his strong suit. Electing to give up on looking for professors, he shut his laptop and stared at the ceiling.

Someone had stuck a couple glow in the dark stars into some vaguely recognizable constellations some years ago, and Keith had helped Pidge dab on some glow in the dark paint and stick more stars, to make more complete constellations. In the daylight, it was difficult to see them; but he picked out several by memory, jumping across the linked ones and finding new patterns in the false sky.

He let out a sigh. He was bored, and tired. It was only 5:00, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to really do. He swiveled the desk chair around and grabbed his helmet once again.

“To the beach.”

***

He sat on the sand, a milkshake in one hand and bag of fries in front of him, watching the distant surfers ride and crash in the waves. It was clear who’d been living and surfing here and who had gotten into it when they started college.

A guy on a blue board made a sharp twist, turning an upward climb into a downhill (down-wave?) rush. Keith watched for a while, until the surfer came in closer, close enough to see who it was.

He nearly choked on his fries. The tightly muscled, crazily wetsuit-less body belonged to none other than his new roommate.

Keith would never say it out loud, but in that moment, from a distance too far to hear him open his mouth and start spilling whatever idiotic thing came to mind, for a half second with the sun silhouetting him and his eyes turned toward the sea…

For a minute, Lance was _attractive._

Keith quickly turned back to his fries and milkshake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, I was a little stuck on this chapter, and what with getting a new job I haven't had a lot of time to write... But enough excuses! Hope you enjoyed!!


	4. Murder Isn't Worth It

_Na- na- now diva is a female version of a hustler…_

Keith growled and cracked an eye open.

_Of a hustler…_

Lance slowly got up and stretched, yawning.

_Of a, of a hustler…_

His phone kept blaring the Beyoncé alarm and vibrating against the wall. Keith wished _dearly_ that he could break the damn thing…

_Na- na- now-_

Lance finally shut the thing off, and Keith would’ve danced for joy if he could’ve gotten up. He’d gotten back earlier than Lance last night (by a long time), and fallen straight asleep. However, despite having gone to bed at a reasonable time, Keith was by no means a morning person. _Especially_ before coffee.

But Lance was.

Keith nearly cried when he looked at the time on his phone. 6:00 AM.

He yanked his wadded mess of blankets further up, huddling down into them as Lance flicked out some rolled up mat.

_It’s the first day we’ve actually had to start a morning together,_ Keith mused as he glared at Lance’s yoga. _The first day, and he couldn’t have even_ tried _being less of a raging douchebag?_

And then Lance turned on some music. Perhaps for normal people, it would’ve been fine. Something to work around, and possibly a small compromise. For most, it would’ve probably been quiet enough to sleep through.

Keith was not most people. He had a deep fondness for sleep, and he was… a difficult person before at least three cups of coffee.

“Shut _up.”_ His extra pillow hit Lance squarely in the butt, causing the other boy to yelp in alarm.

“What the _crap,_ man?”

“Your damn Beyoncé woke me up!” Keith rose to a sitting position, looking somewhat like a demon rising from hell. “You couldn’t have set a quieter alarm? Or at least something more _tasteful?”_

“First of all, Beyoncé _is_ tasteful. Your early 2007 emo _trash_ is the painful stuff, here. Second, no. Quiet alarms don’t wake me up. They don’t wake _anybody_ up!” Lance threw his hands in the air.

“Aggh!” Keith grabbed his other pillow and slammed it into Lance’s face before falling back on his bed and yanking the covers back up. “You’re fucking useless.”

_“¿¡Soy inútil!?_ I’m not the one sleeping away the day like some… Like some vampire! And slinging pillows at normal people!”

_“You’re not normal!”_ Keith hollered, bolting back up. _“Normal people do not get up at 6 fucking AM and do…. Weird… exercising shit!”_

A fist slammed against one of the walls from the dorm next to them.

_“Shut the fuck up!”_

Lance and Keith glared at each other, but fell silent, each contemplating murder.

***

“I swear it’s like he does it on purpose.” Lance dangled off of the top bunk in Hunk and Pidge’s dorm. “Two in the morning, and he’s suddenly up shuffling around, knocking things over.”

“Maybe he has insomnia,” Hunk shrugs. “I don’t know, Keith always seems kinda low on sleep.”

“But… Isn’t insomnia _every_ night, _all_ night? This isn’t every night _or_ all night. This… it’s like it’s right when I just get to sleep!”

“Nah, it’s just the inability to sleep at night.” Hunk shrugs. “Wait, you’re up at two in the morning?”

“I’m just getting to REM. Or something. That doesn’t matter, what _does_ matter is that he’s destroying my sleep schedule!” Lance held up a to-go cup for Hunk to see. _“Look how much coffee I’m drinking!”_

“That’s not coffee,” Pidge snorted at Lance as they walked in the door. “That’s milk and twenty different syrups mixed with a spit of coffee.”

“I thought you were a huge health nut?” Hunk looked up from his textbook. “That’s like a candy bar in a cup.”

“Two candy bars,” Pidge threw in, opening their laptop.

“It’s my only vice,” Lance flipped himself up and sat cross-legged on the bed. “Caffeine.”

“More like _sugar,_ ” Pidge muttered with a smirk.

“No time for your mutinous comments now, Pidge.”

“Why not? You’re not doing anything.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m trying to figure out how to get away with murder.”

“You wouldn't,” Hunk looked back at his textbook. “You’d post something about it on some site.”

“Would not!”

“Oh, yes you would.”

***

Lance kicked another pair of foreign underwear to Keith’s side of the room. “It’s like you have no personal boundaries.”

His roommate sighed heavily from the desk, hands stilling on the keyboard. _“Sorry,_ princess. I’ll work harder to keep my stuff off of your high horse.”

“High horse? This is just basic cleanliness!”

“It’s not even that messy!” Keith finally spun in his chair, gesturing to his half of the room.

Lance looked at it all with a critical eye. To Keith, the couple shirts and various other articles of clothing on the ground really were “not that messy”. But somehow to Lance, they were screaming to be picked up and put away.

“Do you even know what’s clean and what’s dirty?” He finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Keith turned back to his laptop.

“Is that clean?” Lance demanded, gesturing at a shirt dangling off the top bunk.

“Sure.”

“You didn’t even look.”

Keith tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Sure.”

“Can you answer the question like a decent human being?”

“Why does this matter so much to you?”

“Because it’s disgusting that you might be wearing clothes that you haven’t washed in… In who knows how long!”

“I’m wearing perfectly clean clothes, Lance!” Keith whipped around in the chair, voice rising with his temper.

_Why is he making such a thing out of this?_

“Oh, really? How do you know? Did you pick them up and check if they stink too bad before putting them on?”

Keith’s face burned red. While he had done that to some items, he was generally a better human being than that. “I got these clothes out of the closet, _moron.”_

_“Moron? Dios mio,_ how am I a moron for having a concern that my roommate has been wearing the same clothes for _weeks,_ without washing them? How the _hell_ is that moronic?” Lance cried, throwing his hands up in the air (a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar to both of them). “I-”

Both their heads swiveled toward the door as a polite knock emanated from it, both boys realizing how loud their argument had been. Keith stood to get it.

“Behave,” He pointed a finger at Lance, who silently fumed in response while Keith opened the door. “Hey, can I help you?”

“I was just wondering if it was possible for you two to argue a little… quieter.” The guy at the door smiled charmingly, pulling his long hair into a bun.

“O-oh. Sorry about that.” Keith prayed that his neighbor didn’t notice the stutter, or the blush creeping up his neck.

Varkon must’ve gotten a new roommate, or maybe Keith had just never really noticed this guy. How he’d missed him was beyond Keith, because the guy in front of him was… really, really hot.

“I’m Keith, by the way,” He managed. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Lotor.” He held out his hand, which Keith shook. “We haven’t.”

“So, uhm, are you Varkon’s new roommate? Or am I just-"

“Completely oblivious to everything around you? Yes.” Lance leaned into the doorway, shattering anything that might have even hoped to turn into a moment. “Hi, I’m Lance.”

“Ah. I’m Lotor, your neighbor.” Lotor smiled widely. “I assume you’re the cause of the recent increase in noise?”

Lance gaped and Keith snorted. “Yeah, he sort of is. Sorry about that, I’ll try and shut him up.”

“Shut _me_ up? You start half the arguments!”

“And you’re yelling,” Keith pointed out, exasperated.

“Well, it was lovely meeting you,” Lotor smiled awkwardly, probably a little exasperated himself. “But I really must go. Goodbye.”

“See you,” Keith waved and closed the door quickly and quietly.

When he turned around, Lance was smirking dangerously.

“What?” Keith glared.

“We both saw he was hot,” Lance shrugged. “But you honestly have about as much chance as an ice cube in a bonfire.”

“Oh, and you have a much greater chance?” Keith shot back, “His first impression of you is that all you do is yell.”

“Yeah, well…” Lance struggled to find the words he needed. “Well at least I don’t have a _mullet!”_

“Oh, _very_ clever comeback. Are you just gonna fall back on insulting my hair when you can’t think of anything better to say? That’s probably why you have a better chance with him then, because of your _scintillating_ conversational skills.”

Lance’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out.

“Exactly,” Keith grabbed his jacket and his helmet. “I’m gonna go meet up with Shiro. Bye.”


	5. If It Ain't One Thing...

Shiro laughed as Keith complained about Lance, about his stupid cleaning habits, and his yoga at the crack of dawn, about how if Lance was going surfing in the morning, he’d get up even earlier to hit the waves, and he’d knock over or bang his shins on literally everything in the dorm.

“There’s not even that much furniture to hit!” Keith cried, waving around a fry as Shiro cracked up. “It’s not funny, Shiro, I’m serious! This is _ridiculous!”_

“No, no, you’re right, it…it’s just that you sound like an old married couple,” Shiro wiped a tear from his eye as Keith froze, french-fry halfway in his mouth.

“I think I would die before marrying Lance,” he whispered, taking an aggressive bite out of the fry.

“Sure,” Shiro shook his head. “So, who’s this neighbor guy again? Lo… Loki?”

“No,” Keith rolled his eyes in response. “His name is Lotor. Don’t really know much except that.”

“You know that you think he’s… what were your words? Pretty pretty?”

“Shut _up,”_ Keith blushed a firetruck red and shoved another milkshake covered french-fry in his mouth.

“You could ask if he’s going to that beach bonfire thing.”

“You mean the bonfire the seniors start after they all get drunk on the beach?” While Keith was still a freshman and hadn’t been to said bonfire, it was a pretty familiar story. Almost everyone who’d so much as vaguely witnessed it told of its epic craziness.

In truth, it was probably a little lame. Mixed with Keith’s lack of interest in socializing with obnoxious amounts of people, he’d never really planned on going.

“Yeah, that one. It’s kind of fun,” Shiro shrugged.

“Maybe,” Keith returned his focus to the milkshake and fries before him.

“I can’t understand why you eat those. It’s… kind of nasty looking.”

“Don’t say that in front of them, you’ll hurt their delicious feelings.”

***

Keith paused again in front of the door, mid-knock. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask Lotor if he was going to the bonfire… Or if he’d just go and see if Lotor was there, and wind up awkwardly trying to not seem like a stalker.

 _I’m gonna look like a stalker either way,_ he thought, and nearly walked back to his dorm.

Unfortunately, as soon as he turned to go, the door opened to a tall frame, pale blond hair and golden eyes.

“Oh, hello.” Lotor blinked in surprise. “You’re from next door, right? Keith?”

“Y-yeah,” He waved awkwardly, screaming internally. “Hi again.”

 _‘Hi again?’ Who the flying fuck says ‘Hi again’? Jeez you sound like such an_ idiot, _Keith-_

“How can I help you?”

“Uh- I… I was wondering if, um… If you were going to that, uh, that stupid bonfire thing?”

_Don’t call it stupid he might be into that! Crap, what if he thinks you’re stupid now?_

“The one on the beach?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Yes. Actually, I was planning on asking if you would be going?” Lotor tilted his head and smiled.

_Keith.exe has stopped working._

“Uh- Well, yeah, _yeah,_ I am. Yeah.”

“Then I’ll see you there.”

“For sure.” Keith rubbed his bicep and smiled. “For sure. I, uh, I have to go-”

“As do I,” Lotor stepped closer, and Keith practically jumped away. “Until then, goodbye!”

He strode down the corridor and Keith practically ran into his room, recovering from the twelve shades of red that his face had turned after Lotor had brushed by him, a golden smile directed down at Keith.

“Holy shit, holy _shit,”_ Keith paced around.

“What’s so holy about shit?” Lance looked up from his bed, where he was reading.

“A lot. I just asked Lotor if he was going to the bonfire.”

“And?”

“He basically asked me on a date,” Keith ran his fingers through his hair. “He just… _Wow.”_

“The bonfire? The one where people go and get drunk and, y’know, _interact?”_ Lance looked at his roommate like he’d just grown horns. “You hate all that. I literally can quote you like six times saying that you’d rather die than go to a party.”

“Whatever.”

“And besides, what if he’s some sort of- of- I don’t know, _serial killer?_ We don’t actually know him! Do you have some sort of hidden death wish?”

 _“If I had a death wish I’d climb your ego and jump to your IQ,”_ Keith snapped savagely. “He’s _not_ a serial killer. Why are you so against me going to the bonfire with Lotor?”

“Maybe I wanted to go with him!”

“Then maybe you should’ve asked!” Keith glared at Lance, shock and joy of having a semi-date looking thing ahead of him worn off completely.

It seemed stupid to be fighting over who got the date, like they were on some terrible reality TV show. Lance didn’t seem to want to let it go, though.

“Just… Have you even considered the possibility of-”

“No. Whatever it is, no. I’m done with this,” Keith walked to his bed and sat, irritated and frustrated and… angry, mostly.

“Keith-” Lance made a move to stand, to continue the argument, to still be right.

 _“No._ I’m done arguing this.”

“Fine,” Lance turned and grabbed his coat, leaving Keith in the room, for once not being the one who walked out of the fight.

***

“He’s going to the _bonfire,_ Hunk. A _party.”_ Lance paced the room, Hunk leaning back against the bed. “Keith hates parties! And he’s going with that neighbor guy, _Lotor.”_

“I thought you liked Lotor.”

 _“Liking_ someone and thinking they’re attractive are two very different things. I think Allura’s attractive, I didn’t ask her to a bonfire based on that!”

“You never asked anyone to anything.”

“I did!”

“Oh, no, you’re right. You asked Nyma if she wanted to watch you climb that tree-“

“Hunk.”

“Y’know, when you were drunk that time?”

 _“Yeah._ Thanks for bringing up that horrific time.”

“Was that your first time drinking?”

 _“Anyways._ What about _Lotor_ makes Keith want to go to a _party?”_

“I don’t know,” Hunk opened a bag of cheetohs. “I have him in a couple of my classes, he seems like a kind of nice guy. Pretty smart, too.”

Lance watched Hunk eat the bag of cheetohs. “You’re supposed to be a great cook.”

“I am a great cook.” Hunk popped another cheetoh in his mouth and grinned.

“Those are not great cook material,” Lance gestured at the bag.

“Great cook me is taking a break. I feel lazy and snack-ish.” The big guy shrugged muscled shoulders. “Besides, I’m not the insane health nut you are.”

“I’m not an insane health nut. I just like to eat well.” Lance turned away from his friend and looked out the window. “When’s the bonfire?”

“I dunno, I think it’s like… Saturday?” Hunk stopped mid-chew. “You’re not planning on _going,_ right? Like, going and sabotaging Keith’s thing with Lotor?”

“No, that- _No.”_ Lance turned away. “I just want to watch out for him.”

“Aren’t you the one who posted his address online with one of those ‘My greatest fear is that someone will kill my dear friend’ type of things? Why are you so concerned with his safety now?”

“I’m not.” Lance turned back to Hunk and glared.

“Ooh, you _so_ are.” Hunk grinned.

“Awwwwwww,” A pair of glasses poked out from under a mound of blankets on the top bunk, and Lance squealed at the sudden sight of them.

 _“I_ know why Lance is suddenly all hot and bothered over Keith and Lotor,” Pidge’s grin got bigger than it seemed was possible.

“Oh?” Hunk glanced casually up, the hint of a smirk crossing his face as Lance stood, wide eyed and red, next to him. _“Do_ enlighten us.”

“Lance _liiiiikes_ Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for having gone so long without a post! This chapter had me kinda stumped in multiple places... But in the end, I think it came together pretty well! If you're missing the magicarp texts from the first couple of chapters, don't worry... so am I! Those are probably going to show up in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, you guys!


	6. Liar Liar Pants on (Bon)Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! First off, I'm sorry for the long break... Between classes and work, I haven't had the time to sit down and wrote a chapter properly.  
> Second... My computer did this ridiculous thing with some stuff and replaced my quotations and apostrophes with funky symbols, so if you see any of those that I missed, let me know?  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!

Lance rolled his eyes at the people surrounding him, swirling the alcohol in his cup.

_I'm just here to have some fun_ , he thought, staring at the horizon. The setting sun seemed to mock him.

_No, you're not._

He glared at the lazy colors drifting across the sky and turned toward where the already half-drunk college kids were setting up a bonfire.

"This is gonna be a long night," he sighed.

A heavy arm dropped across his shoulders, and Lance yelped as cold metal touched his skin where his tank top failed to cover.

"You're telling me," Shiro yawned.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed or something, old man?" Lance glared at his older friend, shrugging the prosthetic arm off. He hadn't really pictured Shiro as the bonfire-party type.

"Of course not. I gotta get the full college experience."

_"_ _Sure._ Where's Allura?"

"At home, disapproving. She's the real studious one, you know."

Lance huffed out a laugh, and they chatted until one of the other buff twenty-something guys Shiro knew pulled him away.

Lance ended up wandering the party alone, sipping his cup (which somehow never seemed to go empty) and chatting with whoever stopped him. It was a relaxed party, nothing like the naked-heathens-dancing-around-a-fire images he'd concocted. Instead, people milled around drinking, the thick scent of marijuana hung in the air and several speakers warred with each other, playing a cacophonous mix of rap, reggae, and some weird elevator/electronica combination.

The bonfire crackled and time seemed to blur together, Lance took another sip of the bitter drink in his hand. Some of the people he surfed with waved, he waved back. Then his feet were moving again, and reggae was surrounding him and the rap was a distant thudding bass and people were offering him a new drink.

He wasn't sure what time it was, and he hadn't seen Shiro in a while. He squinted at his cup, trying to make it stay in one place.

"I am drunk," he murmured. He looked up, because the music had shifted again and now the weird one was loud. _Why am I here again?_

Then he saw it. Mouths together. Black and pale blond hair. A ridiculously tall, muscled guy and one shorter frame, too soft and too gentle and too passive and too drunk.

That was not Keith and Lotor.

Something boiled up in Lance's chest, something black and angry and much angrier than any of his arguments with Keith had ever been.

_Stupid hair. Stupid eyes._

"H-h _ey."_ Lance was by their side, Lotor looming and decidedly less drunk than Lance, the girl glaring at him. "You..."

Lance furrowed his brow, searching for the words.

"You're a serial killer."

"Excuse me?" Lotor turned to Lance, baffled.

"You're gonna serial kill my roommate. And this... this one too." Lance looked at her. "You know who he is?"

"He's _Lotor,"_ she said, as if that made any difference to Lance. As if that meant he could be here with her instead of (Instead of? And?) his roommate.

His stupid, stupid roommate with his lavender gray eyes and his stupid mullet.

"'S Lotor alright. Where's... Where's Keith?" Lance's words felt slippery, like they were all sliding together. He didn't like that.

"He's getting drinks." Lotor's eyes shifted, looking for the same person Lance was.

"He _has_ your drink." Keith growled. A cup went flying from behind Lotor, but Keith's mix of alcohol and rage twisted his aim. The red cup smacked into Lance's face.

"Watch where you throw your _shit."_ Lance whined, sounding like a petulant child.

"Why are you angry at me?" Lotor turned and narrowed his eyes at the shorter, darker haired boy.

"Be...cos we came here... _together."_ Keith's words slipped and stumbled into each other, falling over each other in a waterfall of slurring. Lance's stomach rumbled uncomfortably, and his attention drifted from the conversation to the girl to how bright the lights were.

_Not lights,_ he remembered, dimly. _Bonaparte. No..._

Alcohol muddled his thoughts, and he struggled to name the roaring blaze in front of him.

"We're not dating," Lotor's deep, honey sounding voice sliced into Lance's thoughts. "We never were."

_"_ _Well you sure as hell acted like it!"_ Keith's hoarser shouting snapped through the air, and Lance became dimly aware that there was something fairly important that he needed to say.

"Hey-"

"Why- I did not!" Lotor ignored Lance completely, or simply hadn't heard.

"Then why'd you ask me here?" Keith spat out.

"Hey guys..." Lance's stomach flipped again, more insistent. The girl next to Lotor snapped her eyes to the taller guy, the look on her face clearly saying _Choose your next words carefully._

"I-" He faltered, not knowing how to tactfully respond to please bot h the man he had clearly attempted to play and the girl he was trying to woo.

"Uh, Keith?" Lance stepped closer, the important thing he had to say to his roommate resting on the tip of his tongue. "Hey, I-"

Lance's stomach finally did the triple backflip that did him in. He turned slightly, a quick movement and duck, and briefly caught a glimpse at nice shoes before emptying his stomach onto them.

The girl squealed in disgust while Lotor swore violently and stepped back, but not fast enough to save his shoes.

"Fuck you," He shot a glare over his shoulder at Lance and Keith, then slung his arm over the girl's shoulders and began muttering the first attempts at damage control.

Lance turned to Keith, mouth opening to say what he'd just remembered.

"Fuck off, Lance," Keith scrubbed his arm across his eyes, glancing away. "Thanks for nothing."

"Firs' of _all_ -" Lance started, grinning. "I didn't _do_ anythin'. Sec- _hic-_ Second, I th _ink_ you should be thanking me... for _everything."_

"What _everything_ exactly? You followed me here, you ruined my date, you-"

_"_ _Bonfire!_ It's a bonfire!" Lance's face lit up with his sudden epiphany.

_"_ _You are drunk off your ass,"_ Keith continued angrily. "There is _nothing_ I should be thanking you for."

"Wait-"

"I'm going back to the dorm." And then he left. Melted into the crowd, or perhaps Lance had missed the moment when he had turned and walked away, missed it like he'd missed his chance to say what he'd been needing to say.

"I think..." Lance looked around, not seeing a familiar face. "I think I'd like to go home."

***

Keith woke up with a pounding headache, praising the good lord above that he didn't have classes on Mondays.

He rolled to see sunshine pouring in through the window, and his phone read 12:02 PM. Lance's bed remained empty, or maybe he'd come and gone already.

Keith looked away from it with a twinge of guilt, his words from the previous night coming back to him. He'd yelled at the wrong person, misplaced his anger, and lashed out at someone who'd been trying to help (albeit drunkenly).

He wasn't stupid. He'd seen Lance stomp up to Lotor, seen him point an accusing finger and scrunch his nose as he tried to stumble through the words. Lance had called out Lotor before Keith had had the chance to. Before anyone else.

Keith's eyes wandered to the bed where Lance's surfboard usually lay, making a decision. Tossing off the covers, he rehearsed apologies and grumbled and searched for aspirin.

At the beach, Keith's eyes searched for the familiar figure tearing through the waves, or reclining just beyond the reach of the surf.

Lance wasn't there.

**we're all magicarp on the inside**

**Today, 12:46**

**Keith**

Anybody know where lance is?

 

**Pigeon**

no

 

**Hunk the Hunk**

I thought he was surfing

 

**Space Dad**

Lance is in the hospital.


	7. Say It Ain't So

**we're all magicarp on the inside**

**Today 12:47 PM**

**Keith**

what?

 

**Hunk the Hunk**

WHY IS HE IN THE HOSPITAL

 

**Pigeon**

shiro are you fuckin serious???

 

**Snow Princess**

What do you mean, Lance is in the hospital?

 

**Space Dad**

I mean, I saw him being loaded into an ambulance this morning when I was running on the beach. It looked like he'd had a surfing accident.

 

**Space Dad**

I'm at the hospital now, going to see if he's okay.

 

**Keith**

which hospital

 

Keith's hands shook, just a little, as he read the address. He threw on his helmet and spun his motorcycle around, tearing off in a cloud of dust.

His pulse hummed it, and his heart twisted in fear.

_Hospital, hospital, hospital._

Lance was in the hospital. Lance McClain, the untouchable, the unbreakable. Even in arguments, even when he was upset, Lance was still something bulletproof.

Keith burst in the doors, and found Shiro waiting for him.

"It's not that bad," Shiro smiled, brushing the bridge of his nose almost subconsciously. Both the scar and the cyborg-esque arm were trophies from his own surfing incident, a few years ago. "He's asleep now, but he should wake up soon. They said he's a trooper. A couple scrapes, some broken bones, that's all."

Keith nodded, but before he could get anything out, a green streak of concern and caffeine slammed into them.

 _"_ _Is he okay is he gonna make it do we need to build him any limbs where is he can I see him?"_ The words flew out of Pidge like water from a broken sprinkler head, their eyes wide with worry, which quickly colored into a fear-fueled anger. They punched Shiro in his flesh arm, lightly. _"_ _Why didn't you tell us sooner?"�_

"Well, I-"

"Nope,"Hunk shook his head. "You can't say you didn't want us to worry, because it's a little late. I'm always worried. I pre-worry."

"I was going to tell you," Shiro held his hands up against the onslaught. "Keith beat me to it, though. I was writing the text when he asked."

"What did the doctors say?" Allura reached over to Shiro and took his hand, concern painting her face.

"Who _cares_ what the doctors say?" Keith snapped. "I want to see him."

There was a beat of silence, like no one had expected Keith to be the one to snap, to be the one to urge them to go see Lance. In truth, none of them _had_ expected any of that.

But nobody was going to _say_ it.

"He's this way," Shiro smiled, recovering first. "Come on, guys."

"To... to the ICU?" Allura's hand covered her heart. "Why is he in the ICU?"

"He hit his head, and probably has a good concussion from it. The doctors just want to be sure he's okay." Shiro let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

The room they entered was dark and quiet, a single bed in front of curtained windows. Lance was laying, asleep, in the center, on a bed that looked ready to be rushed out of the room through the large glass doors. Keith frowned, brows drawing together in concern.

He was worse off than Keith had expected. A fresh, red bruise spread across his cheekbone and framed his eye. Angry scrapes began where his neck and shoulder met, disappearing diagonally below the collar of his hospital gown. One of his arms was bound in a cast, laid neatly beside him in.

"He-" Pidge began, but then shook their head and strode over to Lance and fiercely wrapped their arms around his head. "You're stupid. Don't you ever do this again."

Hunk shifted uncomfortably and paced around the room, while Allura lowered herself into a chair. "This is not like him."

"Surfing is dangerous, Allura." Shiro sighed, looking sadly at Lance. "Even the best have accidents."

"I know. But..." She shook her head and looked at her sleeping friend. "He won't wake up until later, will he?"

"That's what the doctors said." Shiro looked at them all. "Are you all staying until he wakes up?"

"I want to stay a while. In case he does." Pidge nodded.

"Me, too," Hunk smiled. "Just to make sure he's okay."

Keith looked from them to his roommate, passed out in a hospital bed and connected to a million tubes and wires. "I'll stay."

So, they did. They stayed for hours, until Pidge finally shook their head and joked that Lance was catching up on sleep he missed the night of the party and Hunk had finally stopped fidgeting with the loose medical supplies in his worry. Allura turned to Keith.

"Would you like lunch, Keith?"

"No, ma'am." Keith shook his head, looking at the ground and shrugging. "I'm gonna stay. Just in case he wakes up, y'know? So he has someone familiar. Y'all go, it's okay."

She nodded, and they all filed out, waving at the boys and promising to bring Keith some food later.

"You really fucked yourself up, didn't you?" Keith sighed, collapsing into a chair in the quiet room. "Had to go and surf with a hangover. Or maybe still drunk. You drank a lot, y'know."�

Lance didn't respond, but it didn't bother Keith. He talked and talked to Lance, about the weather, about the party, about their room. He made and remade and nixed room rules, and teased Lance over his healthy food and yoga.

"You're such a prima donna about it," he laughed. "You have to be up at, like 6 AM and do your stupid yoga. Where did you read that 6 was the best time to do yoga? An article on Facebook? That's such a _mom_ thing..."

He looked at Lance, at the darkening bruise and the cuts that were deeper than they had first looked. It all looked so much worse in the pale light of the street lamp outside the window. Shadows darkened the scrapes and scratches. Keith's hand hovered above the cast before settling upon it.

"Hey, about... About the party. And that thing with Lotor." He wouldn't look at Lance's face. It would make him feel guilty. Like _he_ was the reason Lance was here, in the hospital asleep, instead of in their dorm talking his ear off. "It wasn't your fault, you know. You didn't do anything, you were... You were just trying to help. In a drunk, unhelpful sort of way. I- I screwed up. I didn't mean to yell at you- I mean, in the moment I did, but that- you're not who I wanted to yell at. I should've been ranting at Lotor and his... girlfriend? Side-ho...? Whoever she is. I just- Got mad at the wrong person. That happens a lot. You probably already know that, though, I mean you've lived with me for the past couple months, it's not that hard to see-"

Suddenly, the cast shifted. Keith whipped his head around and looked into a pair of pale blue eyes, smiling at him.

Lance's hand gripped his. "You're rambling, stupid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming so close to the end!!! Fear not, if you r e a l l y liked this... I'm going to be starting another Klance fic after this one! It may be a while, I'm still framing a plot and all, but I'm excited to say I definitely am not done with these two.


	8. Goodnight, Doofus

Keith blushed pink. "Well I... It's not like I thought you'd be awake!"

"I wasn't," Lance laughed quietly. "But then I was, and..."

"And what?"

"I nearly passed out again," Lance smiled slyly. "You were apologizing."

"You know, just because you're injured doesn't mean you can be a dickbag again."

Lance laughed, a little hoarsely. "Oh, yes it does. What are you gonna do, punch the injured guy?"

"I might." Keith looked away, only slightly irritated that, in this, Lance had the upper hand. He couldn't exactly punch the hospitalized guy.

"You won't."

"I won't."

"What's this? The great, unstoppable Keith, who never lets go of an argument, is allowing me to _win?"_

"Once, pretty boy." Keith snapped, without the usual fire behind it. "And only because you're impaired."

"Aw, do you really think I'm pretty?" Lance batted his eyes flirtatiously.

"No," Keith's blush returned, tinting his ears pink. "It... That was an insult."

"Was it?"

_God, if he could just pass out again..._ Keith looked down and realized they were still holding hands.

"Oh... Sorry," he let go, sliding his arms to lean on the bed as a tiredness crept into his eyes.

"Uhm..." Lance shifted awkwardly. "About Lotor... I-"

"It's ok. I... I didn't really like him anyway. I... He was just... attractive."

"You're not wrong."

"But he was a douche." Keith shrugged. "There's always the douche."

"I wish he hadn't been a douche to you." Lance peered into Keith's eyes. "That's _my_ job."

"And you're good at it."

"Not..." Lance cleared his throat awkwardly, grimacing. "I mean, I hope... Not _too_ good."

"You're not great at everything else," Keith shrugged, smirking. "Why change the trend?"

"Okay, now that's just _mean."_

They sat, and chatted a bit. Keith talked of White Deer, and May and Henry and what great people they were.

"They adopted me when I was twelve. I kid you not, if May had grandkids, she'd be that typical cookie-baking cheek-pinching grandmother."

"How old is she?"

"Oh, she's in her forties, now. Henry just turned fifty, we Facetimed for his birthday." Keith looked down sadly. "I kinda wished I could be there to celebrate in person."

"I'm sure they knew that," Lance smiled. "It would've been a hell of a surprise if you flew home for it."

"Yeah," Keith laughed. "May would've hugged me and then killed me for missing class. What... What about you? Don't you have a whole slew of siblings?"

Keith had seen various pictures on Lance's phone, all lock screens with crowded pictures of people. Usually, he didn't think much of it, but now he was interested.

"Yeah," Lance shrugged. "There's five siblings in my family, I think you met Rose. She helped me move in. And then my aunt has a ton of kids and my mom's two brothers each have two or three. I guess we're a pretty close family, I know most of my cousins. Except the ones in Costa Rica, I don't hear much about them."

"Y'all are from Costa Rica?"

"Yeah, cowboy," Lance laughed. "My mom's grandparents moved here to get a better life, and they kinda moved around 'til they got to California. And we've been here ever since."

Keith laughed, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence for a minute.

"I don't mean to be, you know."

"What?"� Lance flicked his eyes up to Keith's face.

"I don't I don't mean to be mean. Not... not to you. All the time."

Lance nodded and shifted to sit in a more upright position, grimacing in pain.

"I don't mean to be a jerk, either."� He said, not meeting Keith's eyes. "I... never mind."

"No, what?"

"It's stupid, don't even worry about it."

"Lance, what were you gonna say?"

"Don't-"

"No, Lance, it's- Just _tell_ me."

"No, I-"

"Lance-"

"It's nothing Keith, really-"

"C'mon, it had to be _something,_ you wouldn't have started saying it if-"

"Okay, _fine._ I like you. Like... A lot."

"See-" Keith stopped mid-sentence. "You... what?"

"I like you." Lance scrubbed his hand up and down his face, blushing red. "I realized it at the party. That was why I went, sort of. I... Yeah."�

They sat in silence for a bit, Lance burning red and Keith digesting what had just been admitted.

Lance, _the_ Lance, the thorn in his side and the greatest irritation in his life, liked him. In that like-like sort of way. Maybe not love-

_Holy shit what if he loves me?_

_Holy shit what if I love him?_

Keith slowly nodded, not that Lance could see (he was hiding his face in the crook of his unbroken arm).

"I... I like you, too, Lance."

Slowly, the other boy lifted his arm as the realization dawned. They sat, not looking at each other for a bit.

Then Lance once again moved his hand to cover Keith's.

"You know... I can live with that."

Keith smiled, and then failed to smother a yawn.

"It's late," Lance said. "You should get some sleep. I think that chair over there turns into a bed."

Keith nodded, squeezing Lance's hand briefly before going to the chair to figure out how to lay down in it.

In the dark, Keith watched Lance roll onto his more uninjured side and curl into a ball. He liked Lance. _The_ Lance, Lance McClain who had been his roommate and friend for almost two years now. The same Lance that did yoga and was _terrible_ at first impressions and pickup lines, the same Lance who made puns and jokes and couldn't come up with a good comeback until the next day.

He liked Lance. Maybe even loved. Lance liked _him._

He smiled, and shifted onto his stomach. The chair smelled like cleaning supplies, and his jacket was a sad excuse for a blanket. His back was no better, and neither were either of his sides.

30 minutes more of tossing and turning and freezing, a sigh swept the room.

"Keith."

"Yeah?"

"Just... Just get in my bed."

Keith stilled and looked at Lance from where he sat in the chair, still half-prepared for a terrible night of sleep.

"Are you sure?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, now get in here before I change my mind."

Keith huffed a laugh and climbed carefully into Lance's gigantic hospital bed, praying that the staff wouldn't kick him out.

Lance's forehead pressed into his back gently. "Night, doofus."

"Night, Lance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! Hope you enjoyed this one, and the more frequent updates of the past chapters! I have a more clear-cut plan of what I'm planning to do for the end, so everything tends to fall in to place pretty quick! Again, sorry if there's any funky symbols still, I tried to get them all but I may have missed some (if anyone knows how to get your computer to not do that,,, that would be great!).  
> Still mapping out the next fic, but fair warning: Except for Klance, it will be vastly different. Let me know if there's any characters y'all want to see more in the spotlight, I know Keith and Lance kid of hogged it all in this!  
> Enjoy the fic, I'll be back soon with the next (and maybe last?) chapter!


	9. Truth Or Dare Supersmash Brawl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Sorry for the long wait, but here it is- the last chapter! I hope you all enjoyed the fic, and check back soon for the new one! I still have yet to name it, but I have a fairly good plot cooking up... I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT** The new work is up! I'm so sorry that it took so long, I know it's been a crazy amount of time... I hope you enjoy The Prince and The Witch as much as you did this one!

The sun filtered through the window in the quiet hospital room, falling across Keith and Lance gently. The light was what woke Keith up, but what woke him up even more was Lance.  
Lance, who had wrapped his arms around Keith in the night and pulled him in close. Lance, who was currently spooning the hell out of him. Lance, whose face was currently snuggled into where Keith’s neck and shoulder met. Lance, who was evidently a huge cuddler.  
Keith was not normally a cuddly person.  
Today, however, he’d make an exception.  
***  
It was almost a week since the night the boys had admitted their attraction. Neither of them had said anything to their friends, and with the exception of Pidge shooting the two a look every now and then, nothing about their sudden ease in being together was mentioned. Of course, this was perhaps because their arguments were only slightly quieter.  
“You can’t go back to the dorm now, ya dingus, there’s nobody to care for you!” Keith huffed exasperatedly.  
“I don’t need anybody to take care of me, Keith! I’m perfectly fine taking care of myself.”  
“Lance, the last time you tried to get up the nurse had to catch you from falling and needed to carry you back to the bed.”  
“Rosalita is just a very strong and overprotective lady. I can make it perfectly fine, thank you.” Lance crossed his arms and stared dead ahead, slightly embarrassed to be reminded of the situation.  
“Fine.” Keith crossed his arms as well, staring down his stubborn roommate in a challenge. “Get up then.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Get up. If you can walk so well, then prove it.”  
“I don’t have to prove anything to you, Mullet.”  
“Then you should have no trouble demonstrating.”  
“I don’t feel like it.”  
“Humor me,” Keith hissed back, eyes narrowing.  
“Fine.” Lance huffed. He pulled back the blankets covering his legs and swung them over the bed. Quietly, he took a deep breath and stood.  
“There,” he said. “I’m fine, see?”  
“Walk.”  
Growling, Lance took a step.  
“That’s not walking, Lance.” Keith rolled his eyes. “Walk to me.”  
Truthfully, Lance did not trust his wobbly legs and spinning, throbbing head to carry him the five steps to Keith.  
But he’d be damned if he’d let Keith know that.  
Lance got about three steps in before the ache in his head screamed to a higher level and his legs gave up. Luckily, there was a pair of strong arms catching him.  
“I told you, idiot. You can’t walk.” Keith sighed and carried Lance back to the bed. “If they let you out, if they let you out, you’d have to have someone to care for you. You can’t do everything by yourself, Lance.”  
“Isn’t that what you’re for?” Lance lay back in his bed, pouting. He had long since been moved to a regular room, since the concussion he’d received wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. “Making your poor concussed… roommate walk?”  
Keith noticed the pause. Neither of them had talked much about that first night at the hospital. Neither of them had wanted to shatter that memory, in case it was a dream. In case it was real.  
“Well, my roommate currently needs a little more recovery time, otherwise he’s gonna wind up dying or something.” Keith smiled. “And then who will I complain about?”  
“Everyone.”  
“Besides that.”  
“The fact that the hottest guy on campus died?”  
“What?” Keith gasped dramatically. “Shiro’s dead?”  
Lance laughed for a good minute, then reached up and lightly punched Keith in the arm. “Douche.”  
“You didn’t say I’m wrong.”  
“You’re not, this time.”  
***  
For Keith, Lance’s days at the hospital flew by. But for Lance, they were a monotonous drudge, unbroken by classes or surfing or anything that could remotely fall into the category of “fun” or “activity”.  
Until Pidge brought in Truth or Dare Supersmash.  
The door to Lance’s room slammed open and a large computer entered, followed by Pidge’s body, Hunk, Keith, and Shiro, all carrying various equipment. Pidge plopped the computer on his little meal desk (currently devoid of any meal) and started babbling at about a mile a minute about rules while the others wrestled with controllers and cords.  
“So the point is that we play Smash first, right? Like normal, totally normal Smash. And then when the battle ends, we play truth or dare. First asks last, second asks first, third asks second, and whatever. But, first, third, and fifth have to get truth. Second and fourth get dare, and it would have been even but Allura has class and we had to play today. So whaddya think, you up to it, Fancy Lance?”  
Grinning, Lance grabbed a controller and they all started up the game. Keith crawled into the bed next to him (to see the screen better, and there really aren’t enough chairs), followed by Pidge. Shiro and Hunk took the other two chairs and they all duked it out in the game, shouting at each other and shoving each other and laughing.  
In the end, Pidge and Hunk battled it out bitterly for first. Hunk lost after about ten minutes of the sudden death round, when Lance startled him out of his concentration and a bomb fell on him.  
“Alright, Pigeon,” Lance smiled lazily, entirely thrilled to be last, asking Pidge a truth.  
“Aw, shit. I call for a rematch, Hunk, you can take this truth bullshit.”  
“Pidge,” Shiro narrowed his eyes at them.  
“Nope,” Hunk grinned. “The rules are set in stone.”  
Pidge flopped over into Keith’s lap and groaned. “Fine.”  
“Alright,” Lance rubbed his hands together deviously (as best he could manage with the cast). “The question we’ve all been dying to know… What are you even in college for?”  
Pidge sat up, forcing Keith to stop playing with their floppy hair. “Seriously? That’s it?”  
“Yes. You’re all of, what? 12-”  
“16.”  
“Yeah, like I said, 12, and in college. We know you’re some sort of genius prodigy, but what exactly are you here for?”  
“Robotics,” Pidge said, like this should be the most obvious thing on the planet. To be fair, it was. Pidge was scarily good with all machinery, including computers. The problem was, it was so obvious that they’d all thought it wasn’t their true major.  
“Oh,” Hunk blinked. “Duh.”  
“You… You guys didn’t get that?” Shiro stared at all his friends.  
“Not really…” Lance scratched his head while Keith shrugged.  
“Okay, now that we all know my amazing major… It’s Hunk’s turn!”  
“Okay, Hunk.” Shiro squinted at the big guy, an evil grin forming. “I dare you to eat all of one dish Pidge cooks up for you. All of it.”  
“No,” Hunk shook his head furiously. “No way.”  
Pidge was nearly unrivaled in their ability to make almost totally inedible dishes. Allura came close, but her ability to make basic meals like eggs and toast dethroned her for first. Pidge alone had the power to not only turn anything to mush, but also burn, under and over-season every food they touched.  
“You have to,” Keith grinned, “The ruled are set in stone, remember?”  
“I regret playing…” Hunk scrubbed his face with his hands. “Fine, fine. But I’m not making food for any of you for the next month.”  
“You guys have to wait til I’m back to do that,” Lance gasped through laughter.  
“Or we could just do it here,” Pidge shrugged. “It’d make the hospital trip easier.”  
“I hate how aware you are of your own lack of skill.” Hunk grimaced.  
The game went on, and by noon Pidge had flirted (very unsuccessfully) with one of their classmates that they’d had a crush on for most of the semester, Shiro had gravely told anyone who would listen that he hadn’t been the same since the accident (while making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact), Keith had told everyone about his imaginary childhood friend Zeus, and Lance had not only confessed that he knew every word to Daddy Yankee’s Gasolina, but preformed the entire song for the group.  
By noon, Rosalita was frowning at them, Hunk was whining that he and Pidge always got first and second, and Pidge was complaining about being hungry.  
“Then go eat! Go to that burger place Hunk adores,” Lance shrugged.  
“But-”

“Pidge, I’m fine, really. I had a blast, but if you guys are hungry and bored, then go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
“Alright.” Pidge grumped. “But text if you get bored again.”  
“Fine, fine.”  
They all filed out of his room, and Lance rolled over to take a nap.  
When he woke up, Keith was there setting a cardboard cup onto the meal tray.  
“What’re you doing?”  
“I figured you missed your coffee.” Keith half-grinned, the tips of his ears slightly pink. “You like the mocha with whip, right?”  
“Two pumps caramel, one pump vanilla? Cinnamon on top?”  
“Yup.” Keith tossed some packets down next to the drink. “I even got you some extra sugar packets.”  
“I love you,” Lance fell upon the coffee without even thinking about his words. Keith said nothing, but buried his blush in the bag of fries and the milkshake he’d brought for himself. They’d spent most evenings in the hospital like this, Keith bringing Lance some sort of junky contraband and Lance singing Keith’s praises. Usually, Keith stayed until Rosalita kicked him out, chatting casually with Lance until visiting hours were long over.  
Tonight, he had alternate plans.  
“Hey, um… Lance?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I talked to Rosalita and the other nurses the other day,” he covered his chickening out of his plans well, barely a stumble was heard. “You should be good to go home tomorrow.”  
“Really?” Lance beamed at him, then the brilliant smile dissolved into a mischievous smirk. “Are you gonna take me on the back of your motorcycle?”  
“Lance, your head hurts if you sit up too fast. I’m not subjecting you to loud noises and high speeds at the same time.”  
“A car is pretty much the same thing!”  
“It really isn’t. You’re inside a car.”  
“Whatever,” Lance shrugged. “But you’re taking me on the motorcycle at some point.”  
“Then… Then it’s a date.” Keith’s blush spread from his ears to his cheeks, darkening from a light pink to a red. “I’ll… Yeah. When you feel better… I’ll take you out on the motorcycle?”  
Lance looked up, cup clutched in his hands. “Are… Are you asking me on a date?”  
“Yes…?”  
“Then it’s a date.” Lance grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”  
“You’re such a fucking cliché.” Keith bumped Lance’s shoulder. “Stupid.”  
“I take offense to that. I think we both know I’m fairly smart.”  
“Fairly.”  
“Alright! You are past visiting hours!” Rosalita walked in, tall and slightly terrifying. “Again! Dios mío, I let you stay past visiting once and you think you can stay here all the time. Go, I will make sure your boyfriend doesn’t die.”  
***  
When Lance finally came back to the dorm, Keith had not expected the amount of work it would be to take care of him. Not that he needed constant care or anything special at all, Lance was just miserable at being sick (or incapacitated in any way).  
More than once in the first week, Keith had come back to Lance groaning on his yoga mat in the middle of the room, apparently having tried to do some sort of activity and failing miserably when his pain meds wore off. On top of this, Lance would ceaselessly text Keith and tell him to get things. In class, when he was getting other things, when he was in the same room.  
“Lance, I will take your phone privileges. And then tie you to your damn bed,” Keith muttered as he helped Lance up for the thirtieth time.  
“Kinky,” Lance responded. “But I really, really need-”  
“Lance, you do not need another coffee. You had one this morning.”  
“But-”  
“No. Essentially, you are sick. You get one coffee a day. Get over it.”  
In the third week, Keith took Lance on a sort-of date, finally. Lance was recovered enough to start going back to class rather than relying one whatever person he could convince to skype, record, or write down the notes and lecture to pass classes. But he still couldn’t go back to his previously active lifestyle, especially surfing. His arm was still in the cast, and although the scrapes had mostly faded, they were still fairly tender.  
“It’s not your motorcycle,” Lance teased, pretending to pout.  
“Well, I still don’t trust your health.” Keith held open the door to Shiro’s slightly beat up car. When he’d asked for it, he’d also slightly announced that he and Lance were, more or less, dating. Shiro had been less than surprised, as had everyone else. “And I figured I’d take you on a surprise date.”  
“Fine,” Lance grinned, pulling his jacket closer against the cold wind. “Where to?”  
“Like I said, surprise.” Keith pulled a sleeping mask over Lance’s eyes.  
“This… this is a joke, right? I’m supposed to just trust that you’re not pretending to like me in an elaborate plot to kill me?”  
“Lance, you’re the only person I know who would go that elaborate in a murder scheme.” Keith studied Lance’s face while he had the chance to without him catching him looking. His skin had the faintest freckles, and some of the scrapes on his neck had faded into pale scars. They wouldn’t be lasting, but for now they stood out a little against Lance’s dark skin.  
“Ready?”  
“Sure.”  
Keith put the car in gear and hit the gas, pulling out of the campus’ parking lot and turning down a familiar road, taking a few short detours, in case Lance knew the way by heart.  
He pulled into a parking spot twenty minutes later and opened up the door, helping Lance get out and pulling his hands away from the mask. Lance hunched up his shoulders against the chill, and Keith wrapped his arms around him.  
“Keith… Is this…?”  
Keith only smiled and turned Lance to face the horizon, where the gray sky met the blue-gray ocean. Seagulls screamed and wheeled across the sky effortlessly, probably fighting over a fry they had found. Gently, Keith pulled the blindfold off of his boyfriend’s face.  
“I figured you might miss it, between catching up in class and being kind of on house arrest I didn’t think you had the chance to visit.”  
“I didn’t,” Lance stared across the horizon, unadulterated joy seeping from him. He turned to Keith and grabbed the other boy’s face.  
Keith was not prepared for this. He’s figured he’d receive some word of thanks and a sarcastic comment, but Lance pressed his lips to Keith’s gently. It was a soft kiss, full of fondness and warmth and the gentle press of Lance into Keith.  
He wrapped his arms around his taller boyfriend, breaking the kiss and grinning.  
“Well damn, Lance.”  
“What?” Lance blushed, loosening his arms, wondering if a mistake had been made, if he had crossed a line.  
“You’re a great kisser is all.” Keith pressed his lips to Lance’s. “And here I thought I got a crappy roommate.”

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest this is my first Voltron fic... I would really adore it if y'all could do a little critiquing, catch basic errors... tell me when things seem flat or anything... You don't have to, but I'd love it if you did!  
> Thank you so much for reading, I'll try to update as much as possible but I can't guarantee updates on any given day...  
> Hope you enjoy!


End file.
